Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
Steven Lansky
44 years old
Cincinnati, OH
Former Social Worker current University Professor at Miami University, Oxford, OH longtime supporter of causes related to understanding and improving the lives of homeless individuals. This poem was inspired in part by the early songs of Bob Dylan. It was read Feb. 15th at Sitwell's Coffeehouse 324 Ludlow Ave. Cincinnati, OH 45220 at a Poets Against the War reading.
Onion Poem
got my onion. my onion, see. a pain. a hurt. pain, maan, see, hurt, see. the man want my onion. i say NO. NO you take pain. take pain. leave my onion. leave my onion alone, see.
there’s a window. a window, see. don’ break no window, see. windowframe paint, need to paint my windowframe, see. ain’t the same, man. ain’t the same, man. see, i ain’t been the same. pain. pain. man, the pain i feel, man. see, you don’ understand, see.
so, i’m leavin’. gonna get on the plane and go away. not gonna live here no more. take my onion an’ go. go, see. go away where there ain’t no pain, see. where, see. where, see. sinners gonna drive me away. so many sinners drive me away. take my onion and go across the sea.
where have all the flowers gone? long time passing? flowers in the windowbox. cactus flowers on the windowsill. red and pink and purple. lovely bruise. lovely. paint my onion purple.
hello? hello? (my friend hands me a cell phone) it’s george W. bush for you! george? how do i know it’s you? dubya for warmonger? yeah, that’s what i say. he says, "steve, could i use your onion for a few days?" no. "steve, you still hanging with that folksinger crowd?"
my friend george, we got two words for you. REGIME CHANGE! we want the same thing, just for different countries! let’s disarm the USA. let the UN monitor US elections, and inspect US weapons of mass destruction.
the phone goes dead. george is gone. gone. he don’t know no onion. i had a mad dream that we snuck into the White House and removed the top three floors so there was just an empty shell and dubya was another homeless man. he had to walk to another town ‘cause all of DC was closed.
morally bankrupt, socially stratified, politically isolated, and we all sat back, turned off the TV rattle of war and watched the children grow. watched the flowers grow. sat around in the onion patch hand in hand, peaceful as the wild city critters, squirrels, raccoons, pigeons, and robins.
